I was pretty exhausted on Monday night and went to bed at the same time as my kids. Yes, readers, I really am the epitome of rock 'n' roll. As a result of my early night combining with a hectic morning on Tuesday, by the time I reached my Grampa's house in the middle of Tuesday, I hadn't seen any news or social media.
I was hanging Christmas decorations for him, so he was reading the newspaper and doing what he usually does in these situations: passing comment on every article he read, without actually telling me what he was talking about. When he commented on the death toll in the paper being wrong as it had gone up by the mid-morning news bulletin, I asked what he meant and he told me about the dreadful crash in a German Christmas market in Berlin.
I know very little about it, and I'm sure there are a great many people writing commentary on the crash without me chiming in, but it added to the great swirling noise in my head that's existed for the past few days: What kind of world are we living in?
As I tried to formulate an answer to this question, I've really been struck by the number of ways one can be cruel. There's a very obvious way, as in driving a lorry full of steel girders into crowds of people.
There's also a naïve, unknowing kind, in the tactless comments people can make following these events, which occurred to me in comparing the victims' families to those of the Glasgow bin lorry crash a couple of years ago. To say that losing someone is harder at Christmas is the equivalent of saying, "I'm sorry that your relative is dead, but at least they died in June so it's easier." It's not intentionally cruel, but it's still utter rot and doesn't make the person feel better in their suffering.
There's selfish cruelty, where someone acts in a way that could hurt another person, purely to suit their own goals. This came to me twice in two days. The first time was when I was driving and almost hit a dog: I got a dreadful fright, the poor dog owner was beside herself, my own dog was in the back of the car and got hurt during my emergency stop... It was pretty traumatic for all concerned! Except for the wee dog who walked off dazed but uninjured. While the owner was trying to get her wee dog back on his lead and collar - and before I'd established if the dog was uninjured and my car undamaged - the man in the car behind undertook me in the parking lane beside me - almost hitting the wee thing and causing it to chase after him. As he drove past me, I recognised him as a fellow dog walker from the beach I'd just been on. I was utterly baffled at how someone with dogs of their own could be so heartless as to endanger another dog while its owner had lost control of it. I try very hard to act as Devil's advocate before judging someone, but so far every answer I've come up with doesn't excuse the behaviour. Unless any clever reader can come up with a legitimate reason to act this way, I'm left feeling that he was selfish and unnecessarily cruel.
The other form of selfish cruelty I noticed wasn't a personal experience, but came to me while catching up on my only daytime TV indulgence (more of which later). Jennifer Aniston was talking in an interview about her op-ed article on the Huffington Post in July (clicky link here) in which she detailed her feelings on her treatment in the media for the past 20 years. As I watched her discuss her arrival at an airport following a holiday in the wake of her mother's death, I heard a fellow human being describe a mob of strangers descend upon her to photograph her stomach in case she was pregnant, and I actually felt quite sick.
This is not acceptable behaviour. Truthfully, none of what I've described up to this point is what I'd consider acceptable. I'm not comparing driving past a dog to killing dozens of people. But the broader point is that those of us who are decent, normal people, who aren't psychopaths or sociopaths - and I believe that is the majority of the world's population - must be active in making the world the kind of place we want it to be.
Earlier in this blog, I asked what kind of world we live in. The truth is that it's the world the human race has created. I'm going to be bold and say that simply thinking, "well I didn't mean to be tactless," just isn't good enough. We must be active in our goodness.
I am fairly certain that I said in a previous entry that I am far from perfect. I really do believe that I am a deeply flawed person. Taking my advice is done entirely at your own risk! Nonetheless, I'd like to share a few of the ways that I'm trying to create a better world for my children...
For starters, appropriately here in this blog, I try to be conscious of my words. I take time to reflect on things I've said (they often keep me up at night!) and I try to delete unkind or unhelpful phrases from my vocabulary. I make a concerted effort not to issue platitudes and to be unique in my wording - not to be smart or clever, but to be kind. For example, grieving families and new parents hear more platitudes than most, yet it's these people who need more consideration than most, at the most significant moments in human life and death. Putting thought into one's interactions with these two disparate groups of people provides genuine comfort and help. Small talk has its place, but hopefully my readers will agree that these are times for what I have decided to call big talk.
Another way to create a better world is to share what one has with others. I don't have much money, but I share a tiny amount of it with one or two charities that have affected my family or that have touched me. The main charity I support is Spina Bifida Hydrocephalus Scotland (clicky-link) which didn't exist when my Dad was born with Spina Bifida. From the charity's website: Spina Bifida is a fault in the spinal column in which one or more veterbrae (the bones which form the backbone) fail to form properly, leaving a gap or split, causing damage to the nervous system. Most children born with Spina Bifida are affected in some way for the rest of their lives and some end up in a wheelchair. A very small number won't survive infancy. It was 1964 before more than half of babies born with it in the UK survived the first year of their life. My Dad was born in 1959. He survived, he had a successful operation and he was walking at 14 months. Gran always said he walked on the anniversary of his operation, which I always doubted as 100% accurate, but given that she's no longer here to argue with, I'll say it's true. Hey, it makes a good story!
Regardless of my Gran's flair for the dramatic, the fact that my Dad suffered no ill effects after his first few months was little short of a miracle in 1959 and to be honest it would still be remarkable now. My Gran was grateful for that miracle for the rest of her life and I carry that same gratitude in my heart. I adore my parents and I am blessed to still have them here as healthy, fun grandparents to my boys. Many Spina Bifida families don't have that luxury and that's why SBH Scotland is my chosen charity. If any reader doesn't already have a "pet" charity, I'd say to have a little think about what you're grateful for and then find a charity that benefits people who lack that. It's a great way to show gratitude.
If you don't have money to give, even the smallest pound - and I've been there, recently - another resource to offer is skill. What talent do you have that would help someone in need? I had a friend who'd lost everything: home, car, family. She was starting from nothing. I lived too far away to go round and help out over a cup of tea and I had absolutely no money to send, so I put all my effort into rallying others around her to provide resources, furniture, money, time. Everyone pulled together and got her through a hideous situation, but I contributed no actual money or possessions.
Contributing goodness to the world is actually very easy once you're trying to do it. Random acts of kindness are simple and we've actually been doing an advent calendar of kindness this year (link to similar, American version, here). A gift for a friend need only be incredibly small, but if given at random and with love, can be very lovingly received. Smiling at people, genuinely, is contagious. Encouraging children to be kind and empathetic is important to me. Our children have a far deeper capacity for love than adults do; foster that.
Helping my Grampa while simultaneously resisting the urge to bop him over the head with his newspaper is rewarding, believe it or not! I adore my Grampa and - despite his silly habits - I love spending time in his home. It's a place with lots of warm and happy memories. And he really loves the company. I just have to steel myself against his yippering about the football results (who was playing?) and the celebrity gossip in the Daily Mail (why are you still reading that rag?) and what the neighbours are up to (who cares!) - these are the things that occupy his day and he wants to share them with me; I need to let him, while I still can.
Returning to something I mentioned earlier, I take inspiration from the only daytime television program I watch: the Ellen DeGeneres Show on ITV2. It's a program which never focusses on negative aspects of life, which rarely criticises or makes fun of people, which shares stories of people and communities doing good in the world and which tries to spread joy and laughter regardless of outside influence. It may be daytime fluff television, but I always come away feeling happier and inspired to do good. Let's all try to make 2017 a good year for the world. Despite everything I said at the start, I really do believe it's a wonderful world.
...
I had intended to write something more festive this week, but events dictated my thoughts and my thoughts dictate my writing. I may blog again before Christmas, but just in case I don't, I'd like to take this opportunity to wish my readers a very Merry Christmas.
All the best.
FG x
In the words of Pink Floyd: Is there anybody out there?
I've learned a lot in the last few weeks. I'm going to share some of it now, but please indulge me in a little navel-gazing and Feeling Sorry For Myself before you click off; I promise it's not all doom and gloom!
Blogging's a strange beast. It's a little bit like writing a diary that's not private. At the same time, it's not at all like that because it's seldom about daily events. It's almost simply plopping thoughts out as they occur to you. But of course that's not true either.
So, dear reader, what's the Whole Truth? Well, it's been just over a week since I last posted a blog and I've been trying to decide what to write next since then. It's not that I don't have anything to say, but that I wonder if it's worth reading. The experience of starting a blog has been very unnerving (see first blog entry!) and my anxiety has been quite high thinking about it. You see, with each subsequent post, my readership has dwindled, and now stands at one quarter of the original.
The rational part of my brain says this: I can access this one statistic, but I have no qualifying information about it: the time I posted at, the wording I used in my link, people's interest levels, people's nosiness levels, etc. I simply see the unhelpful graphic showing a declining scale. It's incredibly demoralising, which is when the irrational part of my brain begins to crawl out of its dank little corner.
I already explained that FeeGee's Ramblin' Prose is my first foray into writing for public consumption, and there has been great satisfaction in writing with an audience in mind. However, putting my thoughts, opinions, feelings into the ether is very raw and vulnerable, an emotional sensation which I try to avoid, as - while it's not an unhealthy thing to experience on its own - for me, it often brings along that little creep, Low Self-Esteem.
My long-term friend visited from abroad this past weekend and we enjoyed a few days catching up, but truthfully the chat was superficial, lighthearted and fun. The real conversation happens in texts when we aren't together. I'm more comfortable interacting with people when I can't see them and when I have time to word myself correctly. I worry that I'll say something thoughtless on the spur of the moment in person. But the problem with the monster called Low Self-Esteem is that online can be just as bad. I put time and effort into creating a piece of writing that means something to me and no one reads it. My brain goes into an overdrive of negativity.
Over the past 8 days since my last post, I've thought of at least four topics or ideas for future blogs, but they remain unwritten for one of two reasons: first, that no one will read it, if the trend continues; or worse (and this is entirely due to Low Self-Esteem) that the reason no one is reading is because what I'm writing is a big pile of doodoo and I should just stop.
It is at this point that I have to reassure any remaining readers of the following: I do have a rational brain in my head and I frequently tell myself that the above thoughts are utter nonsense, the product of a mental health condition which is treatable with reinforcement of positive messages. This is not linked to my clinical depression and it also doesn't mean that I'm a feckin' looney tune. I'm just a normal person with some self doubt.
I know that there are peaks and troughs involved in any venture like this. I understand that the reasons for the decline in readership are more nuanced. I know this! Yet the little creature, lurking in its grimy corner of my brain, creeps out when I least expect it and whispers nasty remarks. I have to summon every positive message in my arsenal to make it bugger off and leave me alone. And by the time I've done that, the muse which struck me with an idea for a blog has vanished, to return at a very inopportune moment like while I'm driving the kids to school or when I'm lying in bed doing a crossword at one o'clock in the morning, telling myself to Stop It And Go To Sleep. The ideas come back in these junctures and I curse them upside down.
But the joy I take in structuring a sentence, then a paragraph and eventually an entire blog is overwhelming. I love the initial thought process. I love re-reading a section (and agreeing with it, teehee!) and making small adjustments. I love thinking of a new word to use and suddenly changing the subtleties of an idea. Part of it is the fact that I just love language. Creating something which can make people laugh or cry using a single set of 26 letters is fascinating and has provided me with endless hours of entertainment in my own reading. To be able to be a creator, to write something and have someone say that it made them feel something, is just marvellous.
But the process has been exhausting, too. It turns out you're not just dumping your thoughts on the Internet after all. Our thoughts don't usually float inside our brains in fully-formed paragraphs. To be legible to others, they must be moulded and structured. To do them justice, that takes time and effort. More time and effort than I'd appreciated, going in. It's all been quite revelatory.
So in the end I think I'm better off for blogging. Weighing it all up, I get more positives out of it than I do negatives. I guess I'll just need to accept that the readership will be what it will be and if anyone else gets benefit from my ramblins then it's a happy by-product.
In the meantime, I'm enjoying another Pink Floyd lyric:
Tongue tied and twisted, just an earth bound misfit, I
Until next time.
FG x
There are lots of ways for adults to be good leading up to Christmas: you can go the extra mile to give your children an unforgettable Christmas; you can spend more time with an elderly relative or neighbour; you can donate to charity...
The main thing is that we use the season as an opportunity to improve our own self: as I see it, this is a time to reflect on our past and look to our future, as one year ends and another begins.
Some people will get to the end of this year and consider that it's been a good one; many people already consider 2016 to be a bad year, for personal reasons or for cultural reasons. Either way, we have the chance to put things in place in our own lives to create the best start for 2017. For me, as with most things in life, the best way to achieve this is balance.
We'll be making up a box to hand in to our local food bank (North Ayrshire here, UK here) but this doesn't prevent us from sending Christmas cards: the majority of our cards go to older relatives, particularly those not on Facebook who therefore can't read our online good wishes. The remainder of recipients are either too far away to keep in touch with regularly or else they're just too special to be bumped from the list. We then simply use a nominal sum to buy the supplies for the food bank. It's this balance that I try to maintain: between the spirit of charity and the spirit of friendship.
On the topic of cards, I've also been helping my Grampa by writing his Christmas cards and posting them - simple jobs that an 84-year-old man finds overwhelming. Editing my Gran's numerous old address books was a tough job: in each book, fewer and fewer names appear, as friends and eventually couples were scored through in her clear handwriting. The thought that Gran's name would be scored through in someone else' address book brought a lump to my throat. It only made me more determined to keep sending Grampa's cards for him. I wouldn't want anyone to stop writing to him prematurely. He relies on the cards he receives just as heavily as he mourns the friends who are no longer here to send them.
Another way in which I'm trying to spread a little goodness this Christmas is by taking part in two paper advent calendars: one provides the kids and me with a prayerful thought each morning; the other challenges us to do an act of kindness every day. Some are simple, like smiling at everyone. Others involve a little bit of effort, like doing an errand for someone who needs it. We've not been successful in completing every task on the day in question, but we're working on it and it's good to see how the boys think about each suggestion. Anything to make the world a little kinder is no bad thing.
Lastly, I've also been trying something outrageous: only leaving positive comments on social media 😉 it's harder than you think!
All in all, this month always causes me to consider my "goodness" - while I remind the children about Santa watching them, am I willing to be judged at my worst? How bad exactly is my worst? Is actively trying to be better good enough? Again, I find a balance helps: curb my bad habits and faults, make extra effort to be spread peace and love.
______________________
This post comes from someone who is far from perfect and definitely doesn't claim to have any answers. I only want to share a few thoughts here as they come to me. I hope that this post has its desired effect: to share a little love.
Until next time.
FG x
It's the first of December. It is now permitted in our house to sing Christmas songs, pull out some decorations, watch festive films and all the rest. The tree won't go up for a week or so at least, but that's more to do with being disorganised than anything else. The debate about whether or not it's too early to celebrate is over! And we can now get fully into the festive spirit (and spirits teehee!)
I love Christmas. I love the sounds, the smells, the lights and just the fact that everyone's cheery and excited. I love seeing the kids get hyped up, I love watching their nativity play, sending them off to the panto with their school, taking them to visit Santa... I just love it!
I've been feeling a little down recently, just a few too many stressful things landing at once. But last night I sat up until midnight waiting to put on Christmas songs. Within seconds I was grinning from ear to ear! Then this morning the boys opened their advent calendars to get their chocolates, but we also read the instructions on their prayerful advent calendar, then also the kindness advent calendar. I popped on my Christmas jumper and we set off to school. Walking through the town centre, the boys noticed something rather odd: everywhere we looked were woolly hats, scarves, blankets and decorations, on bollards, hanging from railings, wrapped around lampposts and in a multitude of colours. It was wonderful watching them chase around finding more. Then I saw on Facebook that it was part of a campaign to help the homeless and needy.
It struck me that not everyone is as excited about Christmas as my boys and me. I know that, of course, but it really hit me. This campaign is aimed at helping the homeless and impoverished in our society. I was also talking this morning about a friend who spent most of this year living in a refuge and who won't see her children on Christmas Day. While my Mum was watching daytime television, Good Morning Britain's 1 Million Minutes campaign was discussed. That campaign aims to get people pledging to spend time with the elderly and it's a reference to the one million old people who never see anyone in person over the course of a week. I'm thankful that my Grampa is still only minutes away from us and that we've always had a good relationship. Although he drives me crazy, I love him dearly and I happily spend time with him.
I don't expect anyone reading this to adopt an old aged pensioner for Christmas, or take in a homeless person, but in the spirit of my sons' Kindness Advent Calendar, I'll be redoubling my efforts to look out for my Grampa and my friend and make sure that they don't feel lonely this winter.
It's also a hard time of year for the recently bereaved and those still grieving. I've already ordered this year's wreaths to take up to the cemeteries on 24th December and we'll be sending prayers up to our loved ones in Heaven that night. I send my love and thoughts to anyone grieving this Christmas.
With that said, I'm looking forward to the next few weeks of activities. It really is the most wonderful time of the year. I've thoroughly enjoyed watching friends post photos of their "Elf on the Shelf" characters arriving last night and this morning - I admire everyone who goes to this effort every year and I love the ingenuity in some of the creations. I don't do EOTS for a variety of reasons, most of which can be summed up by saying that I'm too lazy. I'll spend tonight watching a Christmas movie with the boys and eating mince pies. That's more my parenting style. But I can't wait. It'll be cosy and cuddly and lovely. And isn't that what Christmas is about?
Enjoy!
FG x
Guilt.
It's a small word for a powerful emotion.
I've always had an apologetic personality. One boss once told me that if I ever apologised to him again he'd sack me - not that he could, but he made his point! Nonetheless, I'm the idiot who apologises to the person who bashed into me in the street. I even apologise for over-apologising. It's just part of what makes me me.
That said, most people with chronic illness also find that alongside their diagnosis comes a huge heap of steaming guilt: guilt at not doing something they'd said they would; guilt at letting people down; guilt at not doing as much for others as they used to do; guilt at having fun when they're "supposed to be sick." During my years with depression and now with my vitamin deficiency, I've added all of these types of guilt and a handful more to the already apologetic person I was.
As if it isn't hard enough suffering from depression, there's an extra voice in your brain that makes you feel even worse. And as if people who are physically limited need mental aggravation as well! There comes a time when you have to make a choice - and you aren't even aware that you're doing it sometimes - between making yourself feel worse by over-stretching yourself or feeling guilty for not doing something.
For a long time I chose the former: I would go everywhere, do everything, be everything to everyone. I ran myself into the ground. Last autumn, I ended up in hospital because of how much I was doing. Within the space of a few months, I'd upped my medicine intake from anti-depressants and anti-histamines to both of those plus anti-anxiety pills and sleeping pills. If you had shaken me, I'd have rattled. I didn't know if I was coming or going and I completed my existing commitments, but I was running on vapours.
That was what led me to the doctor in January and eventually got me the diagnosis I mentioned previously. I was told that the condition had been brought on by a physical or mental trauma - possibly a one-off, possibly over time...
Many people reading this will know that in February last year I lost my beloved Gran. I was raised by two fantastic parents and no one can replace them, but my paternal grandparents were the next best thing to having four parents! I never knew my maternal Gran and my maternal Grandpa was a little old man by the time I remember him. But my Gran & Grampa Johnston were just 50 when I was born and they were fun, full of life and they absolutely doted on my brother and I. Almost every family holiday I can remember was spent with my grandparents and we even went on holidays with them without our parents. They lived in the next street and I spent many weekends with my Gran, cooking, baking, watching old TV programs... If my parents ever wanted to find me, they'd start by phoning Gran! This is only a glimpse into our relationship, but needless to say I was as close to a grandmother as one can be.
While it would be lying to say her death was a shock, it was a surprise - I'd seen her
only days beforehand and she'd been happy and seemed as well as she'd been in recent years. It had been 5 months since her last hospital stay when we'd prepared for the worst. We spent our time visiting her letting her hear the kids' Scottish poems, celebrating that our oldest ("M1") had won the school Burns competition. Gran loved Rabbie Burns and she loved Scottish history - hearing her great-grandsons recite poetry in traditional Scots was a clear joy and she loved it. Kissing her goodbye that day, I'd never have expected what happened only days later.
It's hard to say exactly, but in hindsight I think that's when my clinical depression began to disappear as it was forced out by grief. I was treated for grief and my GPs were fantastic support. With over 18 months distance, I think Gran's last act may have been saving my mind.
Unfortunately, as I came out of the grief, I threw myself into more commitments than proved sensible and accidentally caused my recent condition. Hindsight is wonderful, isn't it? Something else to feel guilty about!
Which brings me back to my point: guilt can come from anywhere and be about anything. As a parent, I feel guilty for having Caesarean sections, for breastfeeding one baby and not the other, for working after one was born and for staying at home although they're both now at school. I feel guilty when I spoil them and I feel guilty that we can't spend much money on them! Then at home, I feel guilty that I don't do as much as I ought to, to "pitch in." Lately, the most guilty I feel is when I cancel plans - which is more often than I'd care to admit.
Yet my rational mind knows that this time last year I ran myself into the ground by not listening to my body. I know that stopping when I feel the early stages of pain and tiredness is the right thing to do to prevent history repeating. How do I do that without feeling overwhelmingly guilty for letting people down? And how do I stop myself from feeling guilty about all of the decisions I made in the past - with the best of reasons at the time!
My depression may be gone but these are the questions that plague my daily life. I think the short answer is that there is no answer. I just have to get over it. Which is easier said than done! So, in the words of a rather irritating Canadian pop singer, is it too late now to say sorry?
When I post on Facebook at any length, I'm sometimes told that I write well, or that I have a way with words. Some very kind people even go as far as to say that I should take up writing as a career or that I should write a book. While it's lovely to be told that, it doesn't sink in straight away. The idea that anyone would be interested in my ramblings is so strange to me! However, for reasons I'll go into later, I've finally decided to take some small steps to try it out.
It may surprise a lot of friends to learn that I'm not a naturally open person. I'm quite shy, incredibly self-deprecating and very anxious. One of the earliest times I ventured into arts and drama (i.e. putting myself in public to be judged!) involved recording a piece of music to be used in a school play. I was the stage manager as well, so I pressed "play" on my own music every time the play was performed.
You may wonder why I relate that little factoid, but I feel a little like blogging is similar to that experience. I'm putting my inner self into a public forum. I'm not sharing "live" but I'm sitting back and watching as an audience responds... or doesn't. The audiences back then didn't know that the music was so important to me - or rather, that their opinion of the music was important. Of course, their opinion didn't change my ability to play the piece, but I wanted it to be liked - it was my music and it was going into the world beyond my own ears for the first time. Just as I shared my music then, I'm sharing my thoughts now. Your opinion of the writing won't change what I've written, but it does matter to me. So please let me know what you think.
The reason I've chosen now to start this project is that 2016 has been a funny old year... That's a bit simplistic, clearly. In popular culture, 2016 has become a meme - the entire year is an internet meme - so it's obviously been a strange 11 months. But January 2016 also marked the first time I realised that my health was troubling me. People reading this may already know that I developed post-natal depression after my youngest son was born. But in January I realised that my symptoms had changed so much, I no longer felt that I was being treated for the right condition. After a lot of investigation, including psychiatric treatment and multiple blood tests, I was told that I no longer have depression (hurray!) but instead I have a vitamin D deficiency (boo!) which also inhibits my body's ability to process calcium.
The symptoms caused by a lack of vitamin D and calcium include tiredness, joint pain, bone pain and muscle weakness. As a result, I've not been able to work or commit to anything substantial. And it's not for want of trying - I've put my hand to more things this year than the preceding five combined! Yet nothing has stuck, because I can't physically commit and my brain doesn't currently have the capacity for learning. I don't divulge this for sympathy, only to explain why I'm now trying to make more of this supposed skill for writing - it isn't a physical endeavour, I don't need to learn anything new, I'm using existing abilities and it's actually quite cathartic to put my thoughts down "on paper," as it were.
So, dear reader, I hope this has given some insight to my seedling blog - a blogling? Oh, and if you're wondering about the blog name and subsequent plant metaphor, the piece of music I played for the school play was "Ramblin' Rose" and I can't resist a good pun, but the metaphor seemed to work too! I hope you enjoy my ramblings. Please do give feedback in the comments or on Facebook.
Peace and love ✌💙
FeeGee
x
